Silver
by Ditey
Summary: She felt somewhat trapped. Like maybe she was one of those deer on the Discovery Channel, unsuspecting of the lion hiding in the foliage.


[Silver] 

[by Ditey] 

[] 

She felt somewhat trapped. Like maybe she was one of those deer on the Discovery Channel, unsuspecting off the lion hiding in the foliage. 

There was a lot of smoke all around her, she guessed coming from that circle of 'puff puff pass' kids. It was dark too, and the dimmed lights were making her a bit uneasy. The music was loud and uninviting, the type of music she guessed she should like, being sixteen and rebellious. She tried to imagine herself being like them, one of the people jumping up and down to the music in the center of the room. 

She suddenly realized her hand was in someone else's, turned to find Tommy looking at her with a small smile on his face. Right, Tommy. She had come here with Tommy. 

There was no mistletoe above her head, thank god. The only indications that it was Christmas, were the cards arranged on the mantel piece, and one of those miniature houses with lighted windows. Amy didn't think this type of crowd celebrated Christmas in a big way. The thought of these people sipping eggnog or caroling in the neighborhood amused her. 

She turned to Tommy again. He was still smiling. Amy followed his gaze and surveyed the room again. The couches were all occupied, two bodies smashed together and stirred with urgency. Amy hoped it wasn't that he was smiling about. 

He nudged her shoulder, a bit impatient. He had the right to, she guessed. She _had_ been watching the room for a few minutes, much longer than the others that just walked past the corridor and joined the throng. He tugged on her arm and shuffled her over to the drinks. 

"Hey man," he greeted some guy, and there was this odd sort of handshake starting at the elbow. Amy looked down, waiting for maybe an introduction. There was none, and the other guy turned to leave. Amy wondered if she should ask Tommy who it was, but she didn't feel like pressing the matter. 

"So, you want something to drink?" he asked. She nodded, and reached for one of the cups aligned in neat rows at the table. Tommy took one too, said, 'to tonight', and they clinked their plastic cups together in some sort of toast. 

Amy positioned the cup over her mouth but she didn't drink from it. Even against her lips, the alcohol burned. She imagined herself drinking the entire thing in one gulp, and taking another one, drink after drink. That would be what she was supposed to do at a place like this. Then she would be incredibly drunk and make a fool of herself and get into some other sort of trouble, and Ephram would have to come and save her again... 

She involuntarily took a large sip. 

[] 

She was starting to think that she couldn't stand up for another moment. Her sandals had a pencil point heel, and the pain of having to balance on it shot its way up to her calves. She bent down a few times and rubbed the pressure in her legs, but after a while she opted not to when she realized why that guy was so intent on watching her do this. 

Amy decided to spare others the agony of watching her try to dance, she told Tommy. He shrugged. She guessed there was probably only so much you could do at a party like this, drink beer, dance to loud music, and make out. 

She didn't feel like doing any of it. 

Tommy didn't even notice Amy shaking out her feet every now and then, and leaning against the wall any time she could. She had to excuse herself to sit down. He nodded quickly and engaged himself back in his friend's discussion. 

She felt like whispering something sarcastic under her breathe, but she couldn't think of anything really to say. She sat down in a chair at the end of the room, as far away as she could from the stereo and the talking. 

It wasn't snowing outside. It had come and went, leaving only a blanket of white on the ground. The snow in the front yard had been stepped on and the jagged footprints almost seemed to hurt. In the backyard, however, the snow had been preserved, still covering the trees. 

She looked out the window for a long time until some couple bumped up against her, and she had to get up to avoid being smothered. She finally settled on sitting on the floor. She looked up at the people now towering over her, occasionally getting her fingers stepped on. She was acting like a two year old, but she decided she would sit there until Tommy realized she wasn't right next to him, and found her there. And also apologized profusely and let her drive the truck. 

She waited for ten minutes and she inferred he was probably still hanging out with his friends. 

This was the part were she looked across the hall and found Ephram sitting down too. And he would be reading a book and she would approach him and ask why he was at a party if he was just going to read, and he'd say nothing adds to the mystery of Edgar Allen Poe like strobe lights and the substance abuse found at these things. She'd smile and sit down next to him and read over his shoulder, though she had no idea who any of the characters were or what on earth they were looking for. 

And it would still make up for the rest of the night. 

Amy thought she did see him, but it was just a shadow, to her dismay. 

She tried to distance herself from the room, the people, the situation. But that damn music was still reaching her. It had notes so low they fused into her brain and soon it kept in time with her pulse. She hated it. More people filed in from the door, and she hated them too. People with their smiles, and their clothes, and their perfect boyfriends that let them enter first. 

She hated her spot in the wall, this little nook where she brought her knees close to her chest and rocked gently back and forth. She hated how hot it was, there were too many people crowded in too little a place, and the sweat and the movement, and the heat. As if she was being burned alive, slowly, from her feet up. Her legs, burning from exhaustion, from her cruel shoes and standing. Her docility. The pangs at her side and her chest heaving at lack of oxygen. And her mind, engulfed with that music and the cacophony, in clouds of smoke and sudden lights. 

The door opened again and she left while the others entered. 

She didn't even feel the coldness of the outside air until she reached the bottom of the driveway and turned around to see herself out of that house, looking in through the windows at where she used to be. She was on the outside and she loved it. 

[] 

The first thing she did was ditch the shoes. She threw them, actually, and it hit a window on the second story, making a small crack. She wiped off her hands and she glowed with satisfaction. 

The second thing was letting her hair loose from that elaborate up thing. It still felt sticky from hair spray but the feel of it brushing her shoulders was enough. She would have wanted to change out of her stupid plaid miniskirt, too, but she didn't have anything else to wear. 

Then she began to walk home. 

She realized as she neared the end of the cul-de-sac, she didn't know exactly where that was. She relied on her rusty Algebra II skills, guessing the drive there had taken about fifteen minutes. So thirty miles an hour equals x over fifteen... 

Oh shit. 

She stopped at the streetlight now directly above her and looked back at the house she left, about two hundred feet back. It was hard to miss, the only one that didn't have flashing christmas lights draped across every tree and bush. 

This was stupid, she thought, staring at it. Seriously, what did she think she was proving by running from the party? She should go back and just urge Tommy to take her home. In a car, so she wouldn't have to trek miles barefoot. 

She screwed the idea and kept on walking. 

A few cars passed her, their headlights shone on her and she had to squint her eyes. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, none had slowed down and offered her a ride. She imagined she looked somewhat like a hooker in her tight clothes, walking the streets. The mental image made her laugh and kept her going. She continued to smile as she joked with herself, trying to figured out what she was worth for a night. 

There wasn't a moon out. Amy remembered a somewhat full-ish moon last night, and she couldn't imagine a worse time for the lack of moonlight. It was very dark, the streetlights were sporadic and the space in between was mysterious. Amy swore she felt something grab at her foot once or twice. Something slimy brushed it too, and she had to dash to the nearest light to reassure herself it wasn't a spider or frog, but some fast food litter. It was still pretty gross though, and she shuffled her feet repeatedly to get rid of the french fry particles. 

She found a nicely decorated neighborhood and decided to take a detour. Must have been the rich part of town, the two story houses were complete with balconies and patios, and their landscapes were precisioned. Professional lighting adorned the house in geometric and straight lines. 

Amy stopped in front of one in awe. Its lights weren't a weak golden glow. But silver. There were snowflakes that seemed to fall from the sky, icicles and stars Amy could have sworn were not just an optical illusion. Angels with grand wings, singing a song she could almost hear. Through the glass windows she could see a brightly decorated tree, different colored baubles hanging precariously from every branch. 

A little girl walked towards the piano and began to play, and Amy left with a twinge of regret. 

[] 

She wished she had worn a watch. She had decided not to at the last moment, as she was getting ready, because it clashed with her outfit. Stupid. She did figure it was about ten oclock, though. The last time she had seen had been 8:48, glancing at a microwave as she passed the kitchen, leaving Tommy with his cool and urbane friends while she sat down alone. Being stepped on by other people, mumbling an 'excuse me'. Finding sanctuary not in conversations with her boyfriend, but in her own head. Stupid boyfriend. How incredibly stupid. 

The thought of the events prior made her angry and adrenaline rushed through her veins. Her walk transformed to a jog, and soon she began to run, her potential energy and contempt adding to her speed. She ran, past lines and lines of houses, taking arbitrary left and right turns until she reached a major intersection. 

Only then did she slow. 

Waiting for the lights to change, she examined the soles of her feet. They were scratched a bit, white and raggedy. A few stones had made minor cuts, and only one was bleeding. She applied pressure with her thumb. 

The red light glared at her. It was too bright compared to everything around her, the dark forests and the darker streets. It was jarring. As juvenile as it was, Amy pretended to have a staring contest with the light. She watched it intently, her gaze not flickering until it suddenly turned to a muted shade of amber. She felt a grim sort of contentment rise in her. 

Green began to reflect on the concrete, and Amy looked up to see the light had changed again. She crossed the street and thanked God when she reached the other side without being run over or kidnapped. 

Her father would love to see where she was now, she thought. He believed she was studying with Paige in the library. Forget the fact that Paige and her hadn't spoken for a month. So not only did he have no idea Amy was at a party with the juvenile deliquent he had humiliated at Thanksgiving, but that Amy had left it, in the middle of the night, and decided to _walk_ home? 

She shuddered. The wrath of her father was not one she wanted to provoke. 

Amy reached the next intersection. The red stood before her, defiantly. She waited for it to change to green. She crossed. 

Please, Amy wasn't even allowed to stay at home alone until she was fourteen. When she went shopping with her friends, she had to call with her cell phone every half an hour, stating her location. Her dad had seen some show saying how if the police weren't notified within an hour of a kidnapping, then the percentages of finding the victim alive was less than 25%. 

Amy didn't have her cell phone with her. She left it in Tommy's car. She could care less. 

She imagined Tommy would have realized she was gone by now. Maybe he'd feel remorseful, that he didn't fully care about her. That he neglected her and left her in that awful place. 

No, he'd probably be on his third cup of alcohol, warming up to some other girl. 

The next intersection was red again. 

The image of Tommy standing next to another girl, telling her the same things he told Amy a few weeks ago... _'so, do you want to finish this conversation somewhere that doesn't have a keg?'_

He'd leave with her. 

She began to hate Tommy. 

And the more Amy recalled her father's face, screaming at her, yelling 'what's wrong with you?', the more she wanted to see him hurt. She wanted him to worry. Worry about losing someone, worry that they were dead. If only for one night. If only for a few hours. 

It's what she was feeling, ever since Dr. Brown uttered the words, 'I'm sorry..' 

There were no cars on the road, which was a good thing for Amy if she wanted to be alive when she ran through the red light to the opposite side. 

[] 

She was nearing a sign. 

It was too far away, and too dark to read exactly what it said. Her feet still weren't tired, though it must have been about thirty minutes of walking. Her feet had become accustomed to the squishy feeling of the grass underneath her toes, and of tall reeds brushing against her ankles, so she no longer stopped every two seconds to make sure she hadn't been bitten by a snake. 

The trees kinda closed over her as this canopy, so thick she could barely see the stars overhead. It was a cloudy day anyway. And she didn't know if it was possible, but it was getting darker. 

The street lights were becoming more and more sparse. Many were worn out with a bulb broken, and Amy had to go a few hundred feet until she had any idea where she was going again. The cars passing by seemed to decrease in number as well, but Amy figured that, seeing as how it was Christmas Eve and all. 

She really wanted to be home. The little girl in the window spread nostalgia through Amy, remembering of Christmases before. They'd go caroling, or try to until her dad convinced them it was too cold outside to be chanting pagan songs to people that obviously didn't want to hear it either. Then there'd be some piano playing, a bit of turkey, and she'd make some hot chocolate. Her brother would try to make a fire in the fireplace, but instead a bit of the curtain treatment would be in flames, and then her dad would take out the extinguisher and tuck the charred curtain end behind a sofa. At least in the last few years Amy and Bright could get some sleep as they went to bed. When they were younger, it was no use trying to sleep, knowing a sackful of presents was waiting in just five hours. They would sneak out of their rooms and talk to each other for hours, conspiring and guessing at what they would be getting. 

Amy smiled. 

She was almost there, she could see the light reflecting off one or more places of the sign. She neared it until the writing became readable and stopped. She kicked at nothing, a loose rock skidded a few feet, and she felt like stomping up and down. 

_'Everwood. Five miles.'_

[] 

"This was brilliant, Amy." She had resorted to talking to herself, since really, there was no one else to talk to. "Oh sure, let's leave the party early! Sure, let's ditch our boyfriend! Who has a truck! You know, a mode of transportation. See, if you had just endured it for ten more minutes, he would have come over and told you that this party wasn't his scene anyway. Then you would get into his _truck_ and go to the park or walk the trail, or _something_. You wouldn't be here, trying to find your way in the dark, and walking five miles _out_ of Everwood." 

She kicked at something again, but there was no rock and instead she stubbed her toe. 

"And now, you've broken your toe bone. If your toe even has a bone. Or whatever." Amy realized she wasn't very coherant when talking to herself. 

_So now what are you going to do?_ she asked herself. The thought was too troubling to speak aloud. Her options were not great ones. She could walk another five miles back, probably reaching somewhere she recognized by midnight. Find a pay phone, call her dad, who was probably wondering why Amy wasn't home three hours ago, and tell him she wasn't studying, she was at a party, and could he please pick her up at the 7-11 by the dry cleaners. 

And proceed to be ground up into dog food. 

But she really didn't see an alternative. Standing on the side of some deserted old road, waiting for someone she knew to magically pick her up and sneak her back home, and her dad wouldn't care and it was as if this whole night weren't happening. 

She felt a light against her back and hoped to god it wasn't the police, for they were just about the only thing that could make it worse. She decided to run in the opposite direction, stupidly, as if the run that wasn't even worthy for the b-list cross country team could outdistance a car. 

That seemed to be slowing down to keep up with her? 

Oh great, this was great. She'd already had to deal with all sorts of crap when she ran away this first time. She was pretty sure it meant jail or something for repeat offenders. Oh man. She definately was not getting into college with this on her record. They would probably think Amy would leave campus if her term paper was too hard. 

She turned slowly to meet her pursuer. There weren't red and blue flashing lights, to her relief, but she didn't relax all that much because she had heard of those cops that drive normal looking cars to avoid detection. 

And that car was pretty normal. Beat up, one might say. There was color lost from some parts, a few scratches on the windshield. Someone in the drivers' seat she couldn't quite see. 

The door opened and she ran her hands through her hair, trying to make sense of everything that had happened tonight. She then realized with irony that she was already in the position they police would ask for her to be, with her hands on her head. She wondered if they would have to say it anyway, or if they would just go on to her Miranda Rights. 

"Amy." The voice was low and seemed to blend in with her dark surroundings so well, she wasn't sure where it started and where it ended. 

"Ephram?" she asked increduously. He took a step into the headlight's beams and smiled grimly. 

[] 

The car looked better on the inside. Its interior was lush, and as Ephram had demonstrated, had an incredible music system. For audio tapes, that is. 

Nonetheless, Amy grew comfortable, her legs resting at the stillness, while her mind raced with thoughts she couldn't even hold onto enough to understand. But she was glad Ephram didn't ask first, 'are you okay?' and second, 'what are you doing here?' because those were questions she had no way to answer. 

"You're cold," he stated, noticing the goosebumps running down her legs. The cold was not what was giving her the goosebumps, but she crossed her legs uneasily. He reached over and turned on the heat. She was suprised the entire system was working, since little buttons seemed to be falling out, attached only by a few wires. 

"What were you doing here?" she asked. Yes, it was a stupid question, but they had been driving for fifty seven seconds in complete silence. 

Ephram half smiled, probably thinking 'shouldn't I be the one asking that?' but complied. "Sometimes I play at this jazz club on the outskirts of Everwood. It's kinda cool. And I get about fifty bucks, so, you know." 

Amy giggled. "So that's why you're.." 

Ephram looked down and fingered his black jacket. "No, I like to wear suits for fun. I'm tired of my old black anime t-shirt wardrobe." She smiled some more. 

"But playing at a club. That's really cool," Amy said. She needed to stop staring at the floor. She turned slightly and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Do you think I could watch sometime? If it's not, you know, really all that hard for you..." 

"Yeah." He didn't look back at her, and somehow that made Amy feel even more uncomfortable than if he had been looking at her. 

"I didn't run away from home, you know." It had been another forty three seconds of silence. She could see small startings of a smile on Ephram's face. She bit her lip. "Yeah," she continued, "and it wasn't like I was just lying on my bed feeling sorry for myself. I was at a party." 

"I see." 

"Yeah. There was dancing." Ephram nodded. 

"And. Lots of beer." He did it again. 

"People were passing out all over the place and the music was so loud you couldn't hear them hit the floor." He just smiled a bit. 

"And my boyfriend and I..." The smile disappeared and retreated back into his usual stolid disposition. Amy cringed slightly, saying 'boyfriend' was almost painful to do. She suddenly forgot what she was going to say after that part, her mind just stopped working. _Boyfriend and I. Oh, really. _

The words just stopped and seemed to float on time, lingering in the air. Amy knew saying something else would make it so she almost never said it, but she couldn't think of anything to say, at all. Probably a first in her history. 

Another forty three seconds of silence passed. Amy guided her finger against the chrome lining the car, from the handle of the door to the glove compartment, swirling around the stereo and air conditioning panel, and.. 

She stopped as it began to move into Ephram's side. 

Even if the car was two tons of scrap metal, Amy was grateful for the protection from the harsh cold air. They were held at an intersection, the same Amy recognized as the one she ran through. As they continued, the landmarks began to appear. The stop sign where she thought she saw something with yellow eyes in the bushes, the sign in front of the church that had letters rearranged to make juvenile innuendo jokes. 

The church's lights weren't on when she had passed them before, but they were now. Silver lights shone from above, and it seemed like the building wasn't even there at all, it was just a ghost or a figment of her imagination. 

Maybe it was, because Amy blinked and it was no longer there, as Ephram stepped on the accelerator. 

The scenery outside her window was no longer picturesque. Ominous trees with haggard branches that grabbed at her as she ran were revisited. She didn't feel like looking at them again. 

She turned her attentions to the young man sitting next to her. His eyes were concentrated, the irises moved in time with the steering of the car. Sometimes he seemed to have a quiet conversation with himself, because every so often he'd shake his head, or bite his bottom lip. He'd blink, lean his arm on the opposite side and rest his head on his head while the other kept the wheel steady. With his hand on his head, he'd rub his temples, brush in through his air, and other nervous habits. 

He realized Amy was watching him and sat up straight once again. His eyes returned to the road, and only the road, not who was sitting next to him, but the road. 

The only movements from then were Ephram switching gears. 

[] 

Amy was looking out her car window to see her house. 

She hated the sight of it. Its roof was too pointy, and the windows and doors were shaped in a way that resembled a face. The face always looked murderous. And just looking at the third step to reach the porch made her scrunch her nose, it always squeaked in a worse-than-fingernails-on-chalkboard sort of way. 

She folded her hands and leaned back into her seat. She knew she was going to have to come here eventually. She sighed, and savored the last few moments. Just the feel of it. Her legs slightly bent at the knee, but mostly lying flat in the spacious leg space. Her head leaning against the shoulder of her seat, and her left arm leaning on the cup holding compartment in the middle. The smell of Ephram's cologne, whatever it was, and just the sight of him in a suit, filling out shoulders and just debonair. Of the warmness of everything around her, not hotness, not sweatiness. And the flush inside of her, bringing life to her arms, her neck, her cheeks. 

She'd hate to leave it. 

Amy lifted herself from the seat and reached out to open the door... 

Ephram stepped on the pedal and speeded past the house. 

Amy looked out the window at the houses flying by her, confused for several moments. She then turned to Ephram and inquired with an eyebrow. 

"You're grounded anyway," said Ephram. "for going to a party you didn't enjoy and walking miles in the menacing darkness. That's not fun. Get in trouble for having some fun." There was a fully recognizable smirk on his face, and it was infectious. 

Amy felt like Bonnie as Clyde turned right and left her neighorhood. 

[] 

"My family thinks I am one messed up chick." 

Ephram welcomed her talking, because aiding a runaway would lose its fun surrounded in laconism. 

"Not entirely. I think you're pretty messed up, too." Amy rolled her eyes and pretended to punch his arm. "I couldn't resist! You set up yourself!" Amy laughed and continued delivering fake blows to the sleeve of his suit. 

"I wouldn't keep doing that if I were you," cautioned Ephram with a tinge of jokingness in his voice. 

"Oh really?" said Amy, giving him another punch just to accentuate her point. 

"Really. Because you never know when I might loose control of the car and.." 

Ephram swerved the car delicately, and in the precision usually reserved for pianissimo he missed a tree by ten inches. 

"Ephram!" Amy cried, getting up from her seat and turning around to examine the back. "What on earth!" 

He began to laugh, really laugh, and she was sure this was probably only about the third time she had ever heard it. It was deep and hearty and she could simply not stay mad at that laugh. 

"You could have killed us!" Amy said, now more grateful that nothing had happened and ecstatic from hearing Ephram laugh than seriously angry. 

His laugh began to slow, but the smug look remained. "Would it have been so bad?" he said cryptically. He turned slight enough to see Amy and still keep an eye out for racoons jumping out of nowhere. 

Amy played with the hem of her skirt rather than answer the question. Her eyebrows furrowed and she wished she had nothing other to do than tug on the loose thread as she was doing now. 

"Yes. It would." 

Ephram looked at her for a few more moments until centering himself back in the driver's seat. 

[] 

The car stopped after a few minutes, and Amy exhaled deeply to see it was not her house this time, either. 

"The rink," she whispered. She admired the tall evergreens that surrounded it, creating a gate to pass through, hiding the pristine ice inside. 

Ephram waited at his seat, not bored at all as Amy watched in awe. Only after a while did Amy reach for the door handle. He was glad she did it slowly, for he was able to get out himself and run to the other side in time to open the door for her. 

The cold was different. It wasn't piercing or numbing, intense or severe. They didn't even need to bundle their arms together, they just stood in light jackets, taking it in. There was the scent of pine and spruce, a scent of cold nothingness that tingled. It was refreshing, cleansing. The kind of cold that revived them. 

And the snow was untouched, it was left exactly as it was, falling down and arranging in an even sheet. Amy almost felt bad walking through, destroying its perfection. Ephram followed in tow, taking her exact steps, fitting his foot in every print of hers. Except for when she stopped in the middle and began to spin around with her arms outstretched. All he could do at that was smile with his hands in his pockets. 

Amy disappeared behind the row of trees. Peeking through the branches of the evergreens, Ephram could see her, standing completely still. Epham wasn't sure what it was Amy was cherishing. He seperated the branches and slipped through with minimum pricking. 

And he stopped too. 

A sheet of absolute ice. No scratches or dents or cuts or gashes. It was completely still. Completely frozen. As if their very prescence might shatter it, their breaths might be too much to carry. 

It was free, and open, and Amy felt independent. As if she could run and run and run and in the middle of nowhere, this was what she would find. It made her feel like shaking her head and letting her hair go free, like lying down and never moving. It was an odd balance of motion and stillness. 

Amy looked above and saw the moon so obscured before by tall trees and other barriers. But it was there. Full and shining. 

Ephram wasn't even sure what he was looking at when he looked up, but he followed Amy's eyes. He saw the moon, its misty glow and mysterious nature. So hypnotic that he wasn't aware how close Amy really was, how if he moved his hands just slightly, he could be embracing her from behind. His arms circled her waist and Amy found the spot between his head and shoulder where she could lean back on. 

The moonlight reflected of Amy's face. Its rays were pure silver. 

[] 

Have a great winter(?) and a happy New Year. 

Make someone else happy, and please review. 

-Aph 


End file.
